Life in Pieces
by jmd0820
Summary: Short drabbles based on Walt/Vic. Can take place at any point in series so spoilers apply, including post series. No particular order.
1. Winter

Post series

Ch. 1 Winter

It's cold now. A thick blanket of snow covers everything in their small corner of Wyoming. The wind howls and cuts like ice. He comes in from the porch, carrying an armload of firewood. He closes the door quickly behind him to stop the cold air from invading the cabin. He stomps his feet, trying to recover some feeling and knock off the remaining snow. Weather or no, the horse has to be tended to. The sun set half an hour or so ago and he knows the night will bring even colder temperatures and more snow. He carefully lays the firewood next to the fireplace. A healthy fire is already snapping away there. He appreciates it's warmth for a moment before turning away.

He removes his hat and coat and puts them away. He pulls off his boots and leaves them by the door. No need to track snow and ice through the cabin. He returns to the fire and watches the flames momentarily, briefly entranced by the color and pattern. Letting out a sigh, he runs his hand over his hair. He turns towards the couch. She is laying on one side, her knees pulled up into an almost fetal position. At some point, she pulled the blanket over herself. Her eyes are closed and her mouth is open the slightest bit. He can hear the low, easy sound of her breathing. He's not sure how long she's been asleep.

The orange glow from the fireplace makes her looks almost like an other worldly being. Her skin and golden hair glow in the firelight. The only movement is the gentle inhale and exhale of her chest. A fond smile crosses his lips. In that moment, she looks peaceful and at ease in a way she rarely does. She's a person that is always in motion. Even when she is sitting still, she will always fidget or move in some manner. Stillness is a not a character trait. Neither is silence. She always has something to say. Now, in the quiet warmth of the cabin, sleep has overtaken her earlier than normal. He knows that work has been hectic. She comes in wrapped in fatigue nearly every night. He doesn't mind. It makes her want to sit and and talk to him. She will put her feet or her head in his lap and go on about her day or listen to him talk about his. It's the easy give and take that has been the hallmark of their relationship since the very beginning when he hired her all those years ago.

He reaches down and touches her hair with the lightest of touches. It's feather soft and he knows it won't wake her. When she falls asleep like this, it's usually a secure sleep that can be hard to rouse her from. His hand moves from her hair to the smooth skin of her cheek. His finger lightly traces a pattern down to her jaw. Pulling his hand away, he gently removes the blanket. Folding it in half, he tosses it soundlessly over the back of the couch. He carefully slides his arms under her and lifts her slowly from the couch. She makes a small noise and settles against his chest. Cautiously, he makes his way to the bedroom, careful not to stumble or bump the walls. He lays her on the bed with the gentlest of care. He waits as she settles against the pillow. For a second, he thinks she might wake up. Her eyelids flutter and open slightly. But, then they close and the mattress cradles her as sleep keeps its hold over her.

He pulls the blankets up around her, knowing she hates to be cold. He adds an extra one because he knows how frigid the air is supposed to be tonight. She lets out a sigh and it brings another smile to his face. There was a period in his life where he rarely smiled. Now, he smiles frequently. His life is settled and calm. He knows peace and happiness. He is content. Most of it is because of her. It doesn't scare him to admit it anymore. He watches her sleep for a few more minutes before he turns away to begin his own preparations for bed. They don't normally turn in so early but he welcomes the chance to lay in the dark quiet and warm himself with the feeling of love that blossoms inside of him whenever she is close.

He makes quick work of showering and sliding into bed next to her. He considers it a luxury now. Once upon a time, he wouldn't have dared imagine she might share his bed on a nightly basis. It's something he has sworn never to take for granted. He's made that mistake in the past. He's a better man now. A wiser man. Experience has made him so. He knows now to take stock of the small things. Life isn't made up of big moments. Life is made up of the small moments in between the big things that make up the every day facets of a life.

Almost as if by magnetic pull, she unconsciously moves closer to him. Her face is tucked into his neck and he can feel the light caress of her breath on his bare skin there. He closes his eyes and allows himself to drift away listening to the soft rhythm of her breathing.


	2. Insomnia

Ch. 2 Insomnia

Walt lay in bed staring up at the ceiling. He couldn't remember the last time he had gotten a decent night's sleep. The past couple of years had literally been one thing right after another. He had hoped that once his lawsuit was over, it would ease his mind. With Malachi Strand on the loose and Jacob Nighthorse doing who knows what, that had not been the case. What was plaguing him tonight wasn't related to a case. It was related to a certain woman who was frequently on his mind.

The conversation with Vic's father replayed over and over in his head. It struck him as odd that she hadn't mentioned her father was in town. He could chalk that oversight up to the fact that their plates were both so full right now. She was still trying to recover emotionally from the loss of her child. They were entangled now with the FBI, Malachi, and the Mob. Walt let out a sigh. When had life in Absaroka County gotten so damn complicated.

"She wants to leave this place."

It kept echoing in his mind over and over. He had long held the fear that she would leave. He had been frozen once before when Sean had insisted she quit. He had dodged a bullet that time. The marriage was in ruins and he knew that Vic didn't like ultimatums. From anyone. She had given no indications recently that she was thinking of leaving Wyoming and returning to Philly. He had been enjoying their newly rediscovered closeness and it hadn't crossed his mind that she might want to leave Durant. Leave him. That was it, wasn't it. It wasn't about work. It was about him. Since she had been shot, Walt had been opening himself up to her in a way he hadn't before. She had done the same. He was the one who held her when she had breakdowns about her baby. She was the one who had kept her unwavering faith in him during his trial.

Was she going to break it to him tomorrow? He had offered to give her a lesson in horseback riding. Before her father had come on the scene, he had been looking forward to it. The thought of being alone with her filled him with a sense of apprehension and excitement he hadn't felt in a long time. Now, he was almost afraid to face her. He didn't want to interfere in her life choices but what if she asked him him opinion? He had feigned neutrality once before. He didn't think he could do that now. They had come too far. He had only recently allowed himself to start thinking of her in new terms. He had finally acknowledged to himself that she wasn't merely a deputy or friend. He was in love with her. He had been for quite some time.

He had let his mind wander. His discipline had been slipping as of late. He had reached out and touched her during their recent stakeout. He hadn't been able to help himself. He had admitted to her that same night that he couldn't lose her. That could be taken many ways. Vic was perceptive and it wouldn't surprise him if she knew what he was thinking. Walt ran a hand over his face and tried to shut his mind off. He needed his sleep. He had fought the urge to call her as soon as her father left. He had wanted to ride over to her trailer and ask her for the truth. Was she leaving? Why hadn't she told him? Instead he had come home to an empty cabin and several cans of Ranier. He had hoped the beer would help take the edge off. There would be no rest.


	3. Truth

Ch. 3

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

Walt cocked his head to one side.

"Who said I wanted to talk to you about something?"

Cady laughed, her blue eyes shining at her father over the small table in his kitchen. She put her fork down and folded her arms across the wooden table top.

"It's not every day you invite me for breakfast, dad."

Walt leaned back in his chair and smiled at his daughter. As usual, she was right about his motives.

"There is something I want to tell you."

Cady nodded.

"Told you so."

Walt grew serious. Revealing pieces of himself had never come easy, not even with his own flesh and blood. In fact, it always seemed a little harder with her.

"I haven't always been open with you in the past, Punk, and I want to change that. I don't want us to have secrets between us."

"Me too, Dad."

He sighed. It wasn't getting any easier.

"I'm seeing someone."

He breathed in relief. Cady's eyes widened slightly.

"Not the same doctor you were seeing?"

He shook his head.

"That's been over. This is something different. Something more serious."

"Someone I know? Are you going to tell me?"

Her gaze was leveled at him, inquiring and curious.

"It's Vic."

There was a moment, where there was no sound. He could see the actual second where she processed what he had said.

"Vic?"

"Yep?"

"Vic _Vic?"_

"Do you know more than one?"

Cady's mouth formed an O.

"Wow, I...wow. When did this happen?"

"Couple of weeks ago. You're the only person who knows so far, Cady. I would appreciate it if you kept it that way for now."

She nodded.

"Sure."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Cady spoke up.

"I suppose I should have seen this coming. I mean...I've seen you guys and it's kind of obvious you're closer than normal."

"Cady..."

Cady held up her hand.

"It's okay, Dad. You don't owe me any explanation. Just tell me this. Are you happy?"

Walt lowered his eyes and then lifted them back up to meet hers.

"Happier than I have been in a long time, Punk. Since your mom."

They both knew he didn't need to finish that sentence. She slowly slid her hand over his.

"I'm happy for you then. That's all I want is for you to be happy. How's work then?"

The corners of his mouth turned up a little.

"We're working through that. It's all new and there's a lot to figure out but we're getting there."

"I really am happy for you, Dad. I'm really glad you told me. I appreciate that."

She stood up.

"Do you need me to help clean up?"

Walt shook his head.

"I've got it. I know you've got things going on. Thanks for coming."

She gave him a hug.

"I'll see you around, dad. Love you."

"Love you, Punk."

Cady breezed out the door, Zach in the back of her mind.


	4. Stay

Ch. 4

Their second time is different than the first, but no less powerful for them both. It's a mere two nights later and he invited her over for dinner that he picked up on the way home. The first night after, he made a conscious effort to give her space. By the next day, he's craving her touch. It's unlike anything he's experienced, this strong need for her. She brings him some reports and says she's done for the night. Before she can fully turn, he stands.

"Vic."

She faces him, her eyes a question mark.

"Do you...want to come over for dinner?"

The invitation comes out with a hint of shyness. That makes her smile, which makes him smile. It's like a silent understanding passes between them.

"Sure. I just need to run by my place and grab a change of clothes."

Neither of them pretends they don't know where this is headed. He nods and they leave at the same time.

He runs by the Red Pony and picks up dinner for them. He beats her to his cabin by mere minutes. While he's taking out the food, she changes into the clothes she picked up from her trailer after work. She ambles back in wearing loose cotton pants and a t-shirt, her hair freed from it's ponytail, and in her bare feet. The sight of her in his house that way makes him shiver. He loves that she's so comfortable here. There is no awkwardness between them. They know each other too well for that. While they eat, they discuss mundane things, mostly to do with work. Nothing heavy or life altering. When the food is gone, she insists on helping him clean up.

It's in his kitchen that he comes up behind her and buries his face in her neck. She startles slightly before relaxing into him and moving her head to give him the access he seeks. He presses his lips to her neck and shoulders, his hands resting on her hips. Finally, she twists in his arms and turns to face him. Her eyes glow with desire and emotion. This raw version of her is almost too much for him. She seems to have completely opened herself up to him in a way that tells him her trust in him is real and whole. Their lovemaking is calm and deliberate. There is no rush, there is no desperation. She holds him firmly to her and whispers things in his ear he cannot fully comprehend in his current state of mind. The slower pace does not diminish the intensity of the moment.

When it's over, he holds her. He's almost certain he'll never tire of feeling her in his arms.

"Stay."

He murmurs it to her hair, her scent addling his mind almost beyond understanding.

She doesn't answer him but he's sure she understands. He wants to wake up with her, unlike their first night together when she found her way to the porch. They both drift off quickly. The last few days have taken both an emotional and mental toll on them.

When he wakes up the next morning, she is still there sleeping soundly beside him. He rolls onto his side and studies her. It's not often the opportunity presents itself to see her in such a relaxed state. It's not in her nature to relax. She's like a river, constantly in motion and sweeping everything along with it. But now, in the first light of the day, she is at peace. Her expression is soft and there is no tension present. He knows they still have a lot to work through and things to figure out. None of that matters in this moment.


	5. Devotion

Ch. 5

If he could bear this pain for her, he would do it gladly. His own problems have been pressed to the back burner of his mind. He can survive whatever fate deals him in his own life. He's not sure he can survive without her presence. He has no idea when that shift occurred but it's been on his mind more and more of late. He finally accepted there was no future with Donna. For a while, he had fooled himself into being puzzled as to why he kept hitting road blocks with her. She was everything he should want in a woman. She was beautiful, a professional woman with an admirable career, she was a mature woman at the same station in life as himself. She was many things that were positive. But, there was one thing she was not. Vic.

He had tried so hard to push Vic away. It had been a selfish thing for him to do. He had convinced himself it was best for them both. He knew now that was a lie. A lie he told himself to relieve his conscience. Things had become near unbearable without her in his circle. He felt empty. She had been steadfast for so long now with regards to him. Her faith in him felt like warm sunshine washing over him. Even after everything, it still remained.

Now, she had been plunged into a darkness that seemed unable to be breached. He knew she blamed herself. He was an expert on self blame. He also knew it achieved nothing. When she had sat in his living room and told him that she had held a gun to her own head, an unspeakable dread had branched out in his gut. She had literally been the twitch of a finger away from erasing herself from this world. He had maintained a calm countenance. She needed him to be steady. He knew that.

These days she was safely in her trailer just outside his house. He took comfort in being able to look out his window and see the warm glow through her windows. He knew she was safe. He could sleep when she was safe. It pained him to see her anguish. He longed for the Vic he had come to rely on. The brash, full of attitude, and eye rolling version that would admonish him one minute and laugh at him the next. Long. That was an adequate word. He had finally admitted to himself what he had denied to basically everyone, including her. He longed for her. He longed for her in many ways. Her getting shot had cemented it in his mind. The time they had spent together since had only strengthened it. She allowed him to take care of her. He knew that's what it was. She could go at any time. But she stayed for now. They shared meals and talks in a way they never had. She would sometimes come in first thing in the morning to steal a cup of his good coffee and she would come at night to raid his beer supply. It endeared her even more to him. He knew she didn't want to be alone and he welcomed her company.

Her presence entangled his heart like tentacles wrapping itself around prey. He had already chastised himself more than once while she was sitting on his couch talking to him. She was prodding him about his case. He didn't want to burden her with his problems but she was hard to say no to. She sat before him in sweat pants and a tank top. He was drawn to the bare skin around her neck and shoulders in a way he hadn't been before. Her hair was down, which he had rarely seen before all of this. He wanted to run his fingers through it. He wanted to press his nose to it and feel it's softness. He had no idea how this woman had so completely immersed herself into the fabric of his life.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind. Now wasn't the time. She was still precariously treading water, as was he. He didn't want to be with her out of a shared moment of weakness and need. He wanted it to be something more. Something permanent. He did want regret to sour the moment or tinge it with darkness. When their time came, he wanted her to know that it came from a place of love and desire. He didn't want her to question his motives or her own. For now he was content to be in her presence. For now.


	6. Honesty

Set in Chapter 3 post "Of Children and Travelers"

Ch. 6

He had always prided himself on his ethics. Honesty and integrity had even been his campaign slogan. So how exactly had he, Mr. Ethical, found himself sitting in a hotel room in Arizona lusting after another man's wife. Lusting seemed an appropriate word, if not entirely accurate. The ride back was fairly quiet. What conversation they did have was strictly work related. There was a palpable energy between them, however. He couldn't deny it and neither could she. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Her face was turned slightly so that her gaze was focused out the passenger window.

He had sat on the bed in that motel and for fleeting moment, he had considered knocking on the door between their rooms. He had always found her attractive in an unconventional, slightly wild way. Despite all their obvious differences, he had found her compelling since the day that he had hired her. In that motel, away from the prying eyes of the Durant populace, he had let him mind wander. What if he had knocked? What would her response have been? Would she have been receptive to his clumsy advances? He could almost picture the smile now in his mind. Surprised but not. Just as curious as himself but wary of taking that first step.

He had shaken the thoughts from his head. But, she had knocked. In that moment, his heart had stopped in his chest and then began pounding. It was pounding so hard, he figured she could hear it through the door that separated them. Would she look at him like she did when she had helped with his key card? That wide unguarded smile had ignited something inside of his gut and the fire was still burning there, smoldering.

He had been equal parts disappointed and relieved when he realized it was business. The softness of her previous smile had been replaced with the all business version of her. They were, after all, here for work purposes. Now, hours later, they were headed back to Wyoming. Nothing had been said and nothing would be said. For a moment, he had been prepared to throw his ethics and integrity in the trash and run full on with honesty. Now they had slipped back into their comfortable roles as sheriff and deputy. He would push all of this to the back of his hand with the help of some Ranier and she would go home to her husband. They would continue on as if this interlude hadn't happened.


	7. Jealousy

Walt sat in his cabin, his feet up on his coffee table. He had been reading but the book had fallen to his lap as his hands relaxed and his eyes drifted shut. His eyes opened slowly as his head dipped and shook him back awake. Stifling a yawn, he laid the book on the table and rose. He checked his watch. It wasn't all that late at eight o'clock. His mind debated between sitting back down on the couch or going out to the porch. He had decided on the porch, thinking the cooler air would rouse his mind a bit. He glanced around the room for his discarded boots. Locating them, he pulled them on and stretched to his full height, trying to loosen the muscles in his back. He was ambling slowly towards the door when there was a knock.

Walt frowned. He didn't get many visitors. Cady had developed a habit of calling him first. He was sure he would have heard Henry's truck. He crossed the door and pulled it open. Words failed to form when he saw her standing there. He hadn't spoken to or seen her since the evening they had decided to part ways. If he were being honest, so much had happened since then, she hadn't really even crossed his mind. It seemed like an eternity ago, though it clearly wasn't. She offered him a small smile and seemed a bit unsure in her appearance at his door.

"Hello, Walt."

Her voice brought him back to the moment and out of his thoughts of the past.

"Donna."

He stood staring at her and she nodded towards his living room.

"May I come in?"

"Oh...uh...yeah."

He stepped back, allowing her entrance. Before he closed the door, his eyes swept over the dark landscape. He noticed she had parked on the far side of his Bronco. Her car was hard to see in the shadows and darkness. The door closed and he turned to her, unsure of why she was here. She used his hesitation to speak first.

"How are you?"

"I'm okay."

She nodded.

"I read in the paper that you retired."

"Yep."

"And you won your wrongful death lawsuit."

"Yep."

She smiled a little. Walt ran his hand over his hair.

"What are you doing here, Donna?"

Her smile faded a bit.

"Always right to the point. I've been debating coming to see you for a while. I didn't like how we left things between us, Walt. It felt unfinished."

"Uh huh."

"I've been thinking about you...a lot...actually."

Walt opened his mouth to stop her when the door swung open. In his confusion and listening to Donna, he had missed the familiar sound of her truck barreling down the road. She strode into the cabin already sliding her jacket off her shoulders.

"Sorry, I'm late. I got stuck on a ca..."

She stopped abruptly and her voice faded as her eyes settled on the two of them standing there near the fireplace. He could see her mind turning and trying to piece together what she was seeing. She dropped her jacket over the back of the couch.

"What is this?"

Walt searched for the correct explanation but it was Donna who spoke up first.

"Do you normally just come in without knocking? You seem to have issues with boundaries."

Walt saw the look that flashed through Vic's eyes and he saw her stiffen. He had become somewhat of an expert on her body language.

" _I_ have boundary issues? Why are you here?"

The older woman crossed her arms over her chest.

"That's not really your business."

Vic tilted her head to one side.

"Oh, I think it is."

Her eyes snapped to Walt and he could see the questions there. Donna saw the look that passed between them and took a step back, as though she were trying to see a larger picture.

"I see."

She looked to Walt.

"You and she are..."

She motioned between the two of them. He nodded.

"Yeah."

"And that's why you seemed so...okay then. I suppose I will be going."

She paused in front of Walt.

"I have to say I'm a little surprised you went there, Walt. I thought maybe you were smarter than that."

Vic opened her mouth but thought better and just shook her head. Donna cast her a glance on her way to the door.

"Deputy."

"Doctor."

Walt cringed a bit, grateful when the door closed behind Donna. Vic jerked her head in the direction of the door.

"What the hell?"

He shrugged somewhat helplessly.

"She just showed up."

Vic moved and sat on the couch, stretching her legs out.

"What did she want?"

"Uh...she didn't get that far but she said we felt unfinished."

The corners of her mouth turned up slightly.

"So she was here to try and get you back."

Walt sat next to her on the couch.

"In all honesty, she never really had me."

Her smile was full on then.

"So I've heard. Next time, just turn her away at the door."

"I doubt there will be a next time."

"Good."

"Were you jealous?"

His voice had a teasing lilt to it.

"Jealous? Of her?"

Her eyes searched his for a moment before she leaned in and kissed him. It was the type of kiss she excelled at where he was concerned. Her fingers wound through his hair as her tongue prodded it's way into his mouth. He felt like he would explode, suffocate, or both. She pulled back and released his head. There was a wicked smile on her face.

"Not a chance."


	8. Interlude

Ch. 8

He was still sitting up with her straddling him. Her legs had relaxed ever so slightly. His head rested on her chest, his chest heaving. Her face was bent into his hair, her hands wound their way through the unruly mess. His heart was hammering so loudly, he was sure she should be able to hear it. Her own breathing was just beginning to slow. Gradually, their hold relaxed and she finally slipped from his grasp. He grunted in protest but saw she was only moving to lie down. She, more or less, flopped onto her back and ran her hands over her face. She looked as drained as he felt. Walt gingerly lowered himself next to her. His fresh wound reminded him of what they had been through today. Once he was settled, she rolled towards him and rested her head against his arm. Walt pulled the sheet up around them. The sweat on his body was causing him to feel cool now that the adrenaline rush had subsided and he was coming back to reality.

Reality.

It was something he didn't want to deal with right now. Professionally it had been a good day. Malachi was gone. Jacob Nighthorse had been spared but would likely do jail time. He was proud of the way his team and the tribal police had worked together. Everyone had come through in tact, save his stab wound and some minor injuries to Nighthorse and Henry. It had been a productive day for them all and there was a lot of work yet to be done.

On a personal level, it had been nothing sort of life altering. He had kissed Vic in his Bronco. He knew when he did it, there would be no taking it back. He had known for quite some time, he had feelings for her. The past few months, he had come to realize how deep those feelings went. He hadn't imagined today would be the day he would actually act of them That moment had bounced around in his head before. Reality had been so much better than anything his mind had conjured up. After the operation was done and everyone was safe, her concern had boiled over into anger and frustration with him.

 _"What kind of bullshit move was that?"_

 _Walt stared, unsure of which move she meant. She had taken him by his arm and pulled him away from everyone else._

 _"Standing in front of a moving vehicle that's speeding towards you? Really, Walt? Jesus!"_

 _He continued to stare at her, trying to focus. Her face was flushed and damp with sweat. He was overcome by the temptation to kiss her again. Walt blinked. Now wasn't the time._

 _"He was getting away."_

 _Her hands were firmly planted on her hips._

 _"He would definitely have gotten away if you had been dead, dumb ass."_

 _Walt winced. He knew why she was so upset. This had been an ongoing issue between them for quite some time now. He had known it would come to a head sooner or later._

 _"I'm sorry."_

 _He tried to keep his voice calm and quiet. She heaved a breath._

 _"No, you're not. You never are. You never consider what you put other people through. You only think about the moment, Walt. It's selfish."_

 _He lowered his eyes, knowing there was some truth there._

 _"I am sorry I scared you, Vic. Thank you for pushing me out of the way."_

 _She gave a slight nod and glanced off in the distance._

 _"You're welcome."_

 _The corners of his mouth turned up slightly._

He could feel himself relaxing. Her breathing had evened out. Her fingers were caressing his side lightly. The touch was like a baby's breath against his skin. He knew she had to be as tired as he was. It had been a long draining day, preceded by more like it. He turned his head slightly, so that her hair tickled his chin. He wanted to touch as much of her as possible. The arm that wasn't cradling her was running lightly over her head, smoothing the hair as he went. Her own hand had come to rest on his skin, relaxing. Sleep was overtaking her. He could feel its warming grip taking over his own mind as well. As much as he wanted to sleep and let his mind and body rest, he also wanted to savor this. He wanted to savor the feel of her in his arms and the smell of her in his bed. Tomorrow, the sun would rise and bring with it a host of questions and conversations.

The truth of the situation was not lost on him. He was still the Sheriff of Absaroka County. She was his deputy. She worked for him. There was a marked age difference between the two of them. He had to admit, though, it didn't seem as wide as it once had. The past year had brought about changes in her. She seemed older than she had and maybe even older than she should be. He knew that was a natural part of life. The death of his wife had made him feel ancient. Grief and tragedy had a way of doing that.

He glanced down at her. She was asleep now. For once, she looked peaceful. He stilled his hands, not wanting to wake her. Now that all was quiet, he could feel an ache taking up residence in the area around his stab wound. Malachi had gotten in one last hit at him. He had suffered worse, however.

 _"Please stop with this invincible shit, Walt. You need stitches."_

 _She was bent over, inspecting the wound. Her hands were warm as they moved over him. He took the moment she was occupied to look at her._

 _"It wasn't even a big knife, Vic. I'll be fine. I've had worse."_

 _Her jaw tensed as she straightened up and studied him._

 _"You need to go to the hospital and let them look at it."_

 _He shook his head slightly._

 _"I just need to go home and clean it up. It'll heal in it's own good time. Most things do."_

 _Her lower lip was pulled between her teeth as she considered him. The scene was dying down. Nighthorse had been taken to jail for the night. Mathias and his crew were dispersing. Henry had gone to the hospital to be checked out. Ferg was already on his way back to the station with Zach to wrap things up for the night. Everything else would hold until tomorrow. They had done all they could do tonight. He did just want to go home._

 _"Why don't you come with me?"_

 _It sounded like an invitation and not just to check on his wound. Her eyes were intensely focused on his. Her truck was parked at the station. He could tell she was thinking about the kiss in that moment. Her gaze moved to his lips and then back up to his eyes, never losing that burning intensity. He extended his hand and touched her bare forearm lightly._

 _"We'll go by the cabin and I'll clean it. Okay? You need to decompress anyway. We both do. Then I can take you to get your truck."_

 _He didn't really mean the last part. As scared as he was of where this was headed, he wanted to get there. She finally relented with a nod._

 _"Fine. If it starts looking infected, though, you're going to the hospital."_

 _"Deal."_

 _She smiled at him then for the first time all day, some of the tenseness washing away from her face. It was a warm smile. He couldn't help but return it. Something about her made him feel like a shy teenager all over again._

His mind was churning less and less. He relished the sensation of this moment. It was long overdue and something he had thought about often. He was tired, though. He knew tomorrow would be another big day for them both at work and at home. This was the turning of a page and a moment when both their lives hinged on change. He didn't want to think about that now. He wanted to fall asleep with the feel of her next to him. He could feel his eyes closing and the fatigue overtaking him. He would go willingly this time. His mind and his body needed respite. She was here with him in the quiet darkness of his cabin. The rest could keep until tomorrow.


	9. Fear

As requested. Takes place during "A Thing I'll Never Understand." This was one of my favorites and the acting was, in my opinion, so spot on and amazing.

Ch. 9

Fear. It was the emotion he hated the most. It was the one that always threatened to paralyze him. Not just any fear. He could handle being shot at or wandering through the snowy mountains in search of criminals. It was the fear of losing someone he loved. The same fear that had sent him into a tail spin after the loss of his wife. The same that had tethered him to his daughter's bedside after her car accident. Those events seemed like they had occurred a lifetime ago. He was a man of thought and a man of action. When the fear paralyzed his mind, he could do neither. Sometimes the results far worse than the catalyst.

It was that fear that kept his foot pressing harder and harder of the gas pedal of his Bronco. It was that fear that kept him holding her to him while he steered, trying not to careen off the road into the blackness that seemed to be trying to swallow them both. She was shivering against him, in and out of consciousness. He rambled on and on about nothing really. Anything to keep her awake and let her know that he was here with her. He would get her to safety. He had not been there when his wife had needed him. He would not let Vic down, too.

He could feel the sticky wetness of her blood on his shirt. Her head lolled against his shoulder and he gave her a jolt.

"Vic! Stay with me!"

Her breath was hot on his ear and neck as she attempted to right herself. He didn't mind. It was a reminder that she was alive.

x

He hated waiting rooms. He was normally good at waiting. He was a very patient man in the right circumstances. These were not the right circumstances. He had waited in enough of these rooms during his life and the results had not always gone his way. He sat down and rested his head in his hands. What if he lost her? Walt forced the dark thought from his mind. That was unthinkable. He had already lost so much. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to ease the headache that had been plaguing him since Gilbert had escaped.

He should have told her. He should have told her what she meant to him. He shouldn't have waited. What if he didn't get the chance now? He looked down at his shirt. Her blood was smeared across it like a gruesome work of art. He rose and paced the room. He was the only one here. The hospital seemed eerily quiet. It was like it knew what was on the line for him. The fear coiled inside of him like a snake looking for prey. It made him feel sick. He was not a religious man but he had already begged what God might be listening to not take her from him. Not this time.

His mind flashed back to her sleeping in the jail cell. He had paused briefly to study her. Her face was somewhat relaxed and unguarded in her sleep. He rarely got the chance to look at her without risking being caught. She was beautiful, even with the stress of Chance Gilbert weighing her down. Even with this secret she seemed to be keeping. He wondered who the father was and shook the thoughts away. A twinge of jealously pulled at him.

Walt snapped back to the present. He continued to wait for Dr. Weston to appear and give him some kind of news. The fear continued to gnaw at him.

x

Her hand was cool to the touch. She looked pale. So much blood lost. It was nothing short of a miracle she was alive. The words of the doctor echoed through his mind. She was incredibly lucky to be alive. He was incredibly luck she was alive. He had waited anxiously for Ferg to leave. All he really wanted was to be alone with her for a little while. She had lost the baby. That hadn't surprised him. He had told Weston he would deliver the news to her. Better to come from him he thought. She seemed small and fragile laying in this sterile environment. Neither of those were words he would use to describe her. She was so strong and so full of life. Seeing her in this state, so quiet and still rattled him.

The fear had finally begun to subside. As he had stood talking to Weston, he had felt it's grip on him loosen and retreat. He was hearing the words he needed to hear. He didn't hear everything the man said but he heard the most important part. She had suffered a terrible loss. But, she would live. She would recover. She would not leave him. Not this time and not in this way. He would be here when she opened her eyes. That was important to him. She would not wake up and find herself alone. Chance Gilbert was dead. The Feds were handling that. Everything else could wait.


	10. Knowing

Takes place during "Goodbye Is Always Implied."

Ch. 10

Walt Longmire had a lot of regrets. He wondered sometimes if most people his age had the same number or if they had lived their lives better than he had. He regretted not being more present as a husband and father. He knew his wife and daughter had known he loved them but he regretted not being with them in the moment more. He could somewhat make that up to Cady now. He enjoyed the breakfasts and other quiet moments they had together. Those had been few and far between as of late. He regretted not supporting her more recently. He would fix that. He still had time. He regretted not being a better friend to Henry sometimes. It could be hard to draw the line between what was right and wrong when you were in law enforcement. Sometimes it put him in direct conflict with those he cared about the most. He knew they would be okay. They had been friends too long to give up now.

He regretted pushing Vic away after Branch died and he had killed Barlow Connally. It had felt like they had been on the cusp of something. Then, it had all gone to hell. He knew they both bore some responsibility. At a time when they should have turned to each other, they had done the opposite. But, that was in the past. There was no need to dwell on it over and over. Over the last few months, he had felt that bond reinventing itself. It was the same but different. In a way, they were closer now. They had both been through so much and they had been there for each other. It was the type of experience that forged new and stronger bonds.

Vic was different now. Sure, she still had a fast temper and foul mouth. She would still roll her eyes at him one minute and grin at him the next. But, she had stared death in the face. She had suffered an incomparable loss and that changed a person. He knew that all too well. What she had lost was making her fear what else she might lose. He also understood that. He had walked in those shoes before and it was a scary road to wander.

It was getting harder and harder for him to pretend he didn't care for her. He could feel it seeping out when they were together, which was often these days. His tone of voice was different when they were alone. His guard was down with her more and more these days. She had seen him at his lowest point lately and hadn't flinched. She had responded with steadfast faith in him. The same could be said for him. He had seen her stripped bare by her experience with Gilbert. He had seen her teetering in on the edge. He hadn't passed judgement or tried to save her. He had been there for her the same way she had been there for him. It was liberating to be real with her. To have her be real with him. Their time together was like a cove away from a raging storm, quiet, calm, and comfortable.

They had expressed a mutual fear of losing the other. Now, in his Bronco, waiting for the next phase of their operation, she was expressing it again.

"I feel like I'm always having to say goodbye to you."

He hated that she felt that way. He hated that he allowed her to feel that way. What if something did happen to him? She wouldn't know how much he cared for her. She wouldn't know that she had actually kept him going during some of his darkest time. She wouldn't know that, somewhere along the line, he had fallen in love with her. She fingered the vest he had gently handed her. He wanted to allay her fears. He wanted to allay his own fear. Fear of the unknown and the not said. He wasn't good with words. He never had been. He had always believed his deeds and behavior could speak for themselves. No reason to change that now.

His hand closed over his arm and pulled. He knew that if he hesitated, he would lose his courage and his momentum. She was surprised but responsive. It wasn't the most passionate kiss. This wasn't the time and place for that. It was a promise from him to her that he was here and he would be here. It was an expression of things that had been left unsaid for far too long. If he didn't come through today, at least she would know. At the very least, she would have that.


	11. Grief

Set post season 6

Grief

The day doesn't hold any particular significance that he is aware of. He remembers she was quiet at breakfast but it didn't seem incredibly odd to him. She's not a morning person so it's not outside the norm that she just wants to sit and scroll her phone while she eats. She leaves for work and Walt goes on with his day.

It's not until he gets a call from Ruby late in the afternoon that his radar begins to pick up on the fact that something is wrong. She mentions that Vic was moody all day and left early. Walt looks at his watch. She would have been home by now. He tries not to worry. Vic doesn't like it when he hovers. The minutes continue to tick by and he gives up on waiting. He's never been very good at it. He decides to look for her.

He knows where she would go if he wanted a drink.

He pushes through the swinging doors of the Red Pony. It's not late yet so the crowd is light. He spots her easily sitting at the bar staring at some unseen point. Without warning, he slips onto the seat next to her and lays his hat brim up on the bar. She doesn't look his way but she knows he's there. He can tell by her body language. He orders a beer and waits.

"How did you know where I was?"

Her tone is flat and lacking any real curiosity.

He takes a swig of his beer and sets the can down on the bar.

"Ruby called because she was worried about you. You didn't come home."

He's watching her without staring. She's removed her uniform shirt and is wearing one of the long sleeve thermal shirts she layers with in cooler weather. Her drink of choice appears to be whiskey, which isn't the norm for her. Her words are slightly slurred so he knows she been here for some time. But she doesn't seem completely drunk quite yet.

They sit in silence for a while. He learned a long time ago not to push her. Pushing creates resistance where she is concerned. He knows from experience that she will tell him when she is ready. He's not sure how much time passes before she reaches that point. He sees movement and glances her way. She lifts herself off the seat a little and pulls something from her back pocket. Without looking at him, she lays in on the bar near his hand. Walt looks down and the entire situation comes sharply into focus.

On the bar lies a slightly crumpled picture.

Her ultrasound photo.

He recognizes it from the one time she showed it to him. That was months ago. His mind quickly makes some leaps and he realizes what is happening.

Today was her estimated due date.

She would have been a mother by now or very close to it. Instead she has nothing but a black and white picture of a not quite developed baby that now only exists in her memory.

He doesn't know what to say. There really isn't anything to say. She has to wade through the grief. He knows this. He and grief are old friends. He reaches out his hand and lays it on her shoulder. She jumps slightly at the contact and still doesn't look at him.

"Let's go home."

For a second, he thinks she's going to refuse. She finally lifts her face and turns to him. His heart clenches tightly when he seems the red rims around her eyes. She's been crying. Without a word, she slides from her seat. Walt takes the picture from the bar and deposits it safely into his coat pocket. She trails him to the parking lot. He sees her truck parked near the side of the building.

"I'll bring you by in the morning to get your truck."

She nods and climbs into the Bronco.

The ride home is quiet. She leans her head on the cool window and stares at nothing. When they get to the cabin, she goes inside and sits on the couch. She leans forward and rests her arms on her legs. Walt removes his coat and hat and sits beside her. He rests his hands lightly on her leg just above the knee.

"Why didn't you say something?"

His voice is soft, like he's afraid to spook her.

When she speaks, her voice is also unusually quiet.

"I just remembered last night. I…actually forgot it was today."

Her words drip with guilt. She's been so busy getting on with her life, the day almost got away from her. He understands that, too. He shifts his hand from her leg to her back and rubs wide circles across her spine.

Turning her head, she makes eye contact. He thinks she's going to say something else. Instead, she folds herself into him, nearly crawling into his lap. Walt allows her to settle before he closes his arms around her. Her face is tucked into his neck and he rests his chin on the top of her head. He can feel her tears when they start on his the skin of his neck. Her body shakes softly with her crying. Walt doesn't say anything. He rubs her back and her hair and presses kisses to the top of her head. After a while she stills. Some time passes and he wonders if she's fallen asleep.

Then she moves.

She lifts stay pressed into him but swipes at her eye with one hand.

"Walt, can I ask you something?"

Her voice is shaky.

"Sure."

She sniffles a little.

"If I hadn't…lost the baby…would you still have…wanted to be with me?"

It wasn't what he was expecting her to ask him. It's a scenario he has thought of before. The answer, for him, is easy.

He pulls back from her and tilts her head up so she can see his face.

"Vic…I wanted to be with you because I was in love with you. You having a child wouldn't have changed that. I still would have loved you."

He pauses before continuing.

"I would have loved you both."

He kisses her forehead and she tucks herself back into him. Walt wraps his arms back around her. He knows this is what she needs. It's hard for her to admit when she needs help. They're alike that way. But he knows. He will sit here with her for as long as she needs him.


	12. Discovery

Discovery

Set post Season 6

It wasn't particularly late.

Normally they spent their evenings on the couch or the porch. He would read most of the time. Sometimes, she read. Sometimes, she would scroll her phone or do something on her laptop. There was something inherently restless about her. Even at home, she would jump from task to task. Other times, they would just talk. About everything. About nothing.

But tonight had been different.

Vic had come in from work with irritation clearly etched across her face. He was familiar with those days. When Martha had been alive, she had been a receptive and effective sounding board for most of his frustrations. Her calm demeanor had been a complement to his need to either vent or withdraw into himself.

After he had become a widower, he would simply drink until he couldn't think anymore. He would eventually fall asleep on the couch and woke up grumpy and hungover. It wasn't the healthiest way to deal with stress. But, it had worked for him. Beggars can't be choosers.

When Vic had entered the picture, he had found somewhat of a kindred spirit. Then, it had been platonic. She understood the rigors of the job in a way most people couldn't because she was haunted in the same way that he was by bad cases and no-win situations. He had been too mired in his own grief and vendetta and she had been married. She spoke of her husband fleetingly back then, normally only mentioning that they were fighting or that he was out of town. The back and forth had been harmless with no pretense of romance. She would sit in his office late into the evening, slouched in a chair with her feet propped up. And they would talk. Mostly, they talked about work. But, once in a while, their conversation would veer into more personal topics. He came to realize, during this time, that this was what he had been missing since the death of his wife.

A real connection.

And his Philadelphia imported deputy had provided just that. She had a quick wit and a sharp smile. She was foul mouthed and full of eye rolls. She didn't take anything from anyone, including him.

Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. Their lives were shared now. She was long free of a marriage that had not been happy for most of its existence. He had put away the ghosts of the past and found peace.

He was reading when she came in, letting the screen door slam behind her. He looked up and his eyes followed her until she was in the bedroom. He could hear the rustle of her changing clothes and removing whatever remained of her day. He knew right away that she was not in a good mood. She had come back wearing pajama pants and a tank top in her bare feet. She flopped unceremoniously next to him on the couch.

He kept his eyes on his book.

"Bad day?"

He felt the warm skin of her bare arm brush his as she had leaned back.

"Hellish as they come."

Her chin came to rest on his upper arm.

"Whatcha reading?"

He smiled to himself. She had no interest in his book. He closed it and tossed it onto the coffee table.

"Hungry?"

She shrugged.

"Not really. I had a late lunch."

"Why was your day so bad?"

Another shrug.

"I don't want to talk about it."

She had that look in her eye now. She sidled up next to him like a cat that wanted petting. Walt slid his arm around her. Her hand landed on his thigh, her thumb lightly moving over the fabric of his jeans. She had his undivided attention now. And she knew it.

It had started simply enough with him bringing his hand to her face and pressing a kiss there. The escalation had been quick. Like a short fuse to a large stack of dynamite. Soon enough, she was straddling him and he was only half dressed. At some point, he would untangle from her enough to carry her to the bed.

It was her way of dealing with stress. Walt had no problem with it.

That was what had gotten them in bed so early. It seemed to Walt like they had been together forever. They had not. And, for the most part, they still had not broadcasted their new relationship. It was mostly an adjustment period. Walt had always been a private person and Vic had agreed it would be easier to find their way without outside prying or questions.

His heart was just beginning to slow down. He was certain one day she was going to kill him. She had been quietly dozing next to him, shifting every now and then to get more comfortable. He felt her move against him and turned his head. Her eyes were open now and the frustration was gone.

She smiled.

He smiled.

Vic rolled away from him and he heard her feet thump onto the floor. She pulled on her underwear and tank top and then slid on his shirt and buttoned it. He always had to laugh at how large his shirts were on her.

She disappeared into the bathroom.

He could feel himself starting to drift when he heard a knock on the door.

Walt got up grumbling and pulled his jeans on. He was trying to smooth his hair down when he pulled the door open.

Henry scanned him and lifted an eyebrow.

"Were you sleeping?"

Walt shook his head.

"No."

Henry turned and looked behind him. Vic's truck was parked next to the Bronco.

"Are you working?"

He could hear the humor in his friend's voice. Henry was nothing if not perceptive.

Henry walked in slowly, his dark eyes looking around.

"Did you need something?"

Henry returned his eyes to Walt.

"I was going to speak with you…"

"Hey, Wa…"

Her voice faded. Henry's eyes left him and moved to his bedroom door. Walt turned. He had never been so happy that his shirts hung close to her knees. She stopped and folded her arms across her chest.

"Henry."

Henry smiled at her.

"Vic."

She backed up into the bedroom and reappeared minutes later wearing her pajama pants along with his shirt.

"I had no idea that the two of you were…together."

Walt could feel the red creeping up his neck. He fumbled with changing the subject.

"You wanted to talk to me?"

Henry shook his head.

"It was in regards to the casino. It can wait. We will talk later."

Walt knew what that meant. Henry nodded to Vic.

"It was nice to see you, Vic."

She smiled.

"Night, Henry."

Walt closed the door and turned around.

"That was…"

His stuttered out his words.

"Awkward?"

"Yeah."

She waved him off.

"He's a big boy, Walt. Besides, people are going to find out at some point. Henry won't say anything anyway."

She slid her hand into his.

"I'm hungry."

He smiled at her.

"Thought you had a late lunch."

She tugged at his hand.

"I did but I worked up an appetite."

He locked the door and let her pull him into the kitchen.


	13. Exhale

Ch. 13

Exhale

Set after "A Thing I'll Never Understand" in season 6

"It's a terrible idea, Walt. This could come back to bite you in a big way."

Walt had grown a little wary of Dave's constant droning on the subject. Had he given the subject a little more thought, he would've met the lawyer in town to discuss his case. The fiasco at the courthouse with Chance Gilbert had slowed progress. Things like that didn't happen every day in Durant, Wyoming. Then Vic had been shot and his own problems had completely been pushed out of his mind. For a couple of days, she had been all he could think about.

Would she be okay? Could he keep her safe? Would Chance's group come after her?

A myriad of questions flooded his mind once Dr. Weston had assured Walt that she would live. That terrible night gave way to a morning filled with sunshine and Vic woke up. She would have a long, hard road ahead of her, but she was going to be okay.

Eventually.

Unfortunately, right now, she was not. The physical wounds were healing nicely. It was the emotional and psychological damage that would be the hardest to overcome. Right now, she was in a dark place. It was a mental hell that Walt was very familiar with. He would not abandon Vic to find her way alone.

Not after everything that had happened.

He damn near lost her. Feelings that Walt successfully kept in place most of the time had been bubbling up more and more where she was concerned. He finally gave up on trying to force the relationship with Donna. He recognized that his heart simply wasn't in it. Vic already had firm ownership of that whether he liked it or not. It was no longer his to give away.

Her unshakeable faith and devotion to him in the face of this whole tsunami of bullshit charges (Vic's words) he was facing down had shaken him to his core. If he gave it real thought, he wouldn't have been surprised. Vic had always been one of the most loyal people he knew. Even when things went to hell between them. Still, her willingness to go down with him had touched something inside of him. A tender place in his heart.

Now, it was Vic who was facing something that seemed insurmountable. Her own grief. He knew she blamed herself. He understood. He was an expert at self-loathing. It was Vic's entrance into his life that had helped him find his way back. He owed her the same in return. Moving her RV was about keeping her safe. From Gilbert's 'family' as well as the ghosts that were haunting her psyche right now. Those cuts ran the deepest. He had cradled her in his lap for as long as she needed it when she finally broke down in his cabin. Walt knew there were likely to be more on the horizon as she worked her way through all of this.

"Couldn't you just have put a guard on her place?"

Walt shook his head.

"I don't have the manpower for that. These people might come after her. It was the only thing to do."

He heard his lawyer let out a heavy, frustrated sigh. Walt was surprised the man hadn't jacked up his fee for all the trouble Walt was causing him.

"You realize if this gets out, it'll only add fuel to the fire. There are already rumors about the two of you. Her practically living with you isn't going to help."

Walt leaned his forearms on his porch railing, his eyes on the RV. There was a faint glow of the lights she had on inside right now.

"She isn't living with me. It's temporary."

"Doesn't matter. You know the truth is subjective."

Walt shook his head. What was it with people thinking that?

"I can't help what other people think."

"You don't have to add fuel to the fire either."

Walt was resolute.

"She's staying."

Dave nodded in concession.

"Okay, your choice."

In the fading light of the day, Walt watched the tail lights of his attorney's car fade into the distance. He understood the man's misgivings. Dave didn't understand the inner workings of his relationship with Vic. Hell, half the time, he didn't understand it either. He stood for a few more minutes. Nature's nighttime symphony was gearing up and the color streaked sky was something as it reached out across the horizon with a color palette an artist could only dream of replicating.

He heard the door to the RV open and close and he heard the soft tread of her coming across his yard. Since her breakdown the other night, Vic sought him out now. It was obvious she didn't want to be alone sometimes. That was fine by him. He had always enjoyed her company whether she was sitting in his office with her feet propped up or sitting next to him in the Bronco.

He glanced her way as she took slow measured steps across his porch. She grimaced slightly as she limped her way up to where he stood.

"Leg hurt?"

She looked down at it and nodded.

"Yeah."

He gestured to the bench nearby.

"Want to sit"

She started that way and he followed.

"Sure."

Walt sat and watched as Vic eased down and stretched her leg out. A trace of a smile crossed his lips. She was wearing pajama bottoms along with her t-shirt and Converse. There was something homey and cute about it. He would never admit that to her.

"How was your meeting?"

He shrugged.

"Same old stuff."

For a minute, they were quiet. He could hear her inhale and exhale next to him, almost a whisper. Then she spoke.

"Is my being here causing problems for you?"

Walt turned to face her.

"Did he say something to you?"

Her expression answered before she did.

"Only because he's worried about you."

"He's worried about losing."

"Same difference."

He leaned forward and let his arms come to rest on his thighs.

"He shouldn't have done that."

"Walt, maybe it's time for me to go home."

He hated the suggestion.

"Is that what you want?"

He was looking at his boots, afraid of the answer. The truth was, he didn't want her to leave. He liked having her here. With him.

"It might be what you need."

With a sigh, he turned to her.

"All that matters is what you need, Vic. You let me worry about the trial. You've got enough on your plate."

"Walt…"

He shook his head, cutting her off.

"Are you ready for that? It just wasn't about keeping you safe from Chance's people, Vic. It was about giving you a space to heal. And not just your leg."

Her head bobbed in a nod.

"I know that. And it's meant…more than you know…but…you should think about yourself."

Walt was accustomed to people accusing him of being hyper focused and single minded. Lately, she was the object of that focus. Taking care of her had become his primary objective, whether he would admit it to her or not.

A heavy truth had settled over him in that hospital waiting room. While he'd existed in a hellish purgatory, not knowing if she would live or die, the truth he had been fighting for so long refused to be denied any longer. Not by him.

He was in love with her.

It seemed so much more than simply loving her. Or wanting her. God knows he wanted her.

He was in love with her in every way possible.

Suddenly, nothing else seemed important. Not that she worked for him. Not that she was younger than him. He didn't care that she was pregnant with someone else's child. The baggage they both carried didn't matter to him. All the excuses he steadily fed himself over the years seemed ridiculously insignificant in that span of time. With everything stripped bare, that was the only thing that seemed to matter.

He was in love with Vic.

"Walt?"

Her voice broke through. It was soft. The sound made his toes curl inside of his boots. He could only be honest with her at this point. But not too honest. He didn't think she was ready for his whole truth. Not yet. Her state of mind was still too frail. Vulnerable. He didn't want her to question his motives down the road or think he acted out of pity or some shared need for personal contact.

There was so much between them that bred uncertainty. He wanted her to be certain when it was their time. Confident in what he felt for her. Steady.

He pulled himself together and stood up, stretching his back. Facing her, he leaned his back against the bean of his porch roof.

"Vic, I want you stay here as long as you want or need to. We can't help if people misconstrue things or outright lie. I'm not gonna let them run my life or yours."

She was looking at him full on with those damn eyes that got him every single time.

"This trial is my problem. I appreciate you worrying but you have other things to deal with. Be honest with yourself. Are you ready to take that step?"

Her eyes still carried the haunted expression that plagued them since she woke up in the hospital with an empty womb and a broken heart. After a second she shook her head.

"No."

He exhaled in relief. He wasn't ready for that either.

"Then there's nothing left to say about it."

He took two steps towards his front door.

"Come on in. Getting chilly out here."

She stood up slowly and followed him inside.


	14. Compromise

Ch. 14

Compromise

Set after "Burned Up My Tears"

Walt's office was quiet. Finally. Few things had angered him more than finding Wilkins making himself at home here. The man had acted like he owned the place. Any vindication Walt might have felt was lost in the grief of losing Lucian.

There was a quick knock on his office door and then it cracked open.

Vic.

He knew it was her before her head appeared. It was a familiar pattern. There was a measure of comfort to be found there. She looked at him uncertainly.

"Hey, can I come in?"

He nodded. He was pretty sure everyone else had gone home. She came in and pushed the door closed with a click. She sat down gingerly in the chair opposite his desk. There hadn't been time to talk about her coming in to work when he had clearly told her she was on leave.

When had Vic ever listened? Really.

"You okay?"

She was looking at him in that way that always melted something inside of him.

She answered before he did.

"Dumb question. Walt, I'm sorry about Lucian."

He nodded in acceptance.

"Me too."

They sat in silence. He lifted his wrist and looked at his watch.

"It's late, Vic. You should go home and get some rest."

She made a face clearly disagreeing with him.

"Want to grab some dinner?"

It was a simple enough offer on the surface. But to him, it was more. The concern in her voice was clear. So little time had elapsed since they sat in his living room and she confessed to him that she had come gut wrenchingly close to killing herself. And, here she sat, worried about him. Right now, he was too tired to consider the implications of that.

"I'm not hungry."

She sighed.

"Yeah, me either."

He almost smiled.

Almost.

Walt cleared his throat.

"Vic, thanks for coming in on this. I appreciate it but…"

She held up her hand and stopped him.

"Don't say it, Walt."

He felt his jaw tighten.

"You're on medical leave, Vic."

She flapped the same hand at him and rolled her eyes. It was one of the first glimpses of the old Vic.

"I don't have to be if my boss will let me come back to work."

He shook his head.

"No."

She rolled her head forward, her chin touching her upper chest.

"Come on, Walt. Staying cooped up isn't doing me any good. We both know that. I need something to do. I'm bored of sitting around all the time."

"You were shot, Vic. It nearly killed you. Do you get that?"

Her expression grew somber.

"Yes, I get that. But I'm not dead and I promised you to stay that way. I need to feel useful. Jesus, I just need to feel something besides sad all the damn time. It's not healthy."

"It's too soon."

She blew out a frustrated breath.

"Walt, please."

Walt rubbed his temples. As much as he hated to admit it, she had a valid point. He couldn't be with her all the time, even while she was staying in his yard. He had to work, which left her too much time in her own head.

"I had a similar conversation with Branch. I can't…I won't make that mistake twice, Vic. Not with you. Not after…everything."

She tilted her head and studied him.

"But?"

"I understand what you're saying."

She looked at him hopefully.

"So I can come back?"

He leaned forward and rested his arms on his desk.

"Maybe. With some rules in place."

"I don't like the way that sounds."

He shrugged. She relented and nodded at him after a long hesitation.

"What kind of rules?"

She sounded skeptical.

"You have to work here in the office. I don't want you out in the field yet. It's not safe."

She chewed on her lower lip.

"So you want me to sit here instead of sitting at home."

He knew she would take some convincing.

"Well, here you could be helping out on cases. You wouldn't be so bored."

She considered him.

"So…when do I get to do my job again? All of it."

He frowned. He hadn't thought that far ahead.

"Maybe when you're not limping."

Eye roll.

He sighed.

"How about this. You come back on desk duty for at least a week or two. We'll see how it goes from there. If you're feeling up to it and your leg holds up, you can go on some calls with me to start with. I don't want you out by yourself yet."

"That sounds suspiciously like baby-sitting."

He shrugged again.

"Take it or leave it. That's my final offer."

She sighed heavily to make sure he knew she was unhappy with his proposal.

"Fine. We'll do this your way."

"My way would have you actually resting until a doctor cleared you. I'm offering a compromise."

The smallest of smiles tugged at her lips.

"Fair enough."

She was still watching him.

"Something else?"

"Yeah, let's go get some dinner on the way home."

"I told you…"

"You're not hungry. I know. I'm not really hungry either but that hasn't stopped you from insisting I eat. According to you, I have to eat. So that means… you have to eat, too."

She pushed herself up from the chair with a slight grunt.

"So come on. You drive."

He thought about arguing but she was right. She had also completely turned the tables on him using his own words as ammunition.

Vic cocked her head towards the door.

"Come on. It's a compromise."

He had no choice but to smile.

"A compromise."

"Yep. C'mon. We both need it, Walt."

He relented and stood up. Flipping off the light, he waited while she collected her things. Walt took her laptop bag from her without asking.

"Here. Let me."

She started to argue but nodded as she slid her jacket on.

"We all need help sometimes, Vic."

His words held more truth than they were willing to admit. She smiled up at him and it did his heart good to see it. She limped towards the door with Walt next to her.

"Red Pony?"

The question came from Walt in a low rumble.

"Where else?"


	15. Regrets

Ch. 15

Regrets

Post Series

Vic pushed through the swinging doors of the Red Pony. The crowd was just starting to pick up with the after work crowd. She made her way to the bar and leaned on it scanning. Her eyes came to rest on Henry Standing Bear. It was a rare night that found him tending bar. But, being a weeknight the casino wasn't quite as busy as it was on weekends.

He saw her and smiled.

"Vic."

"Hey, Henry. You got my order?"

He glanced behind him towards the kitchen.

"Yes, I will get it."

She gave a quick nod as he disappeared from view. Vic tapped her fingers on the counter and glanced at the clock on the wall behind the bar.

"Vic."

The voice was oddly familiar but she couldn't place it immediately. Turning, she half froze in surprise.

"Travis?"

He looked mostly the same. He looked like he had dropped a few pounds but he was dressed the same as he normally was in a t-shirt and jeans with an oversized belt buckle. He wore a ball cap on his head and scuffed up boots.

"Wh…when did you get back in town?"

He gave her a shrug and a sort of smile.

"Last week. My mom is sick."

"Sorry to hear that."

His eyes shifted up and down her frame.

"You look good."

She offered him the best smile she could muster.

"Thanks. You too."

"Here you go."

It was Henry again. Vic turned and took the bag he held out to her with a smile.

"Thanks, Henry."

"You are welcome. Have a nice evening."

She smiled.

"You too."

Henry moved away to wait on another customer. When she turned, Travis was still standing there. He glanced at the bag.

"Dinner?"

She looked at the paper bag in her hand.

"Uh…yeah. Just got off work."

It seemed like a dumb comment considering she was wearing her uniform but she was already out of things to say to him. Travis crossed his arms.

"Looks like a lot of food. How've you been?"

Vic shifted uncomfortably.

"Good."

"You still at the trailer park?"

Vic shook her head.

"No, haven't been there in a while."

He looked far too interested.

"Really? Where you livin'?"

She wasn't looking to get into a long personal conversation with him. Travis continued without giving her time to answer.

"Still got your RV?"

"No I…I sold it."

He shook his head.

"Too bad."

Vic gestured to the bag in her hands.

"It was nice seeing you but I gotta run."

His face fell a bit.

"Here, I'll walk you out."

Vic shook her head at the offer.

"That's okay. I'll be fine."

She turned and started to move away. He followed.

"I insist. Least I can do for an old friend."

Vic sighed as he trailed her out to the parking lot. The air was cooler out here than in the crowded bar. He paused when he saw her open the passenger door of her vehicle and set the bag of food on the seat. He frowned.

"Why are you driving Walt's Bronco? My mom told me he retired."

She closed the door and fiddled with the keys.

"He did. My truck needed tires."

He looked at the Bronco. The law enforcement decals were gone. Realization crossed over his face and he looked more than a little disappointed. He folded his arms over his chest and kicked at the gravel in the parking lot with the toe of his boots.

"So you and Walt."

Vic sighed.

"Travis…"

He shook his head and cut her off.

"I mean…I knew you had a thing for him. Even when you slept with me."

Vic shook her head.

"Really, Travis. Jesus."

He gave her an apologetic look.

"Sorry, I just…I hate we missed our chance."

Vic stared at him, her mouth partially open. After a few seconds, she found her voice.

"Travis, there was no we. There never was. You know that. You and me…it was a one-time thing. We were drunk. Really drunk or it wouldn't have happened. Nothing was ever going to come of it."

He looked like a scolded child and then grew serious.

"I was gonna ask you to marry me, Vic. Before you got shot. Maybe you didn't have genuine feelings but that doesn't mean I didn't."

That was the first she had heard of that.

"What?"

"Yeah…I uh…had a ring and everything."

Vic closed her eyes and then opened them, wishing this conversation were over and she was on her way home. She was tired and hungry.

"Why on earth, Travis?"

He shrugged and dipped his face down.

"You were carrying my kid."

She shook her head and took a step away.

"That's…not a reason to get married. And I told you the baby might not have been yours."

"Was it?"

Vic looked at the ground.

"I don't know."

He sighed.

Vic just shook her head.

"Look, I gotta go."

Travis scuffled his boot across the ground.

"Yeah, wouldn't want Walt's dinner to get cold."

She moved around the Bronco and opened the driver's side door, ignoring the tone in his voice.

"I hope your mom feels better. I'm sorry. About everything."

He didn't answer. Vic closed the Bronco door and took a breath.

When she pulled out, he was still standing there.

xxx

"Something wrong?"

Vic looked up from where she was pushing the fries on her plate around. She'd been hungry when she got to the Red Pony. But, the unexpected encounter with Travis had destroyed her appetite. Walt was watching her, his own food mostly finished.

"I saw Travis when I was picking up the food."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Travis? How was that?"

"Awkward."

She looked back down at her barely touched food.

"He told me he was gonna propose. Before I got shot. God, can you believe that?"

His expression didn't show the surprise she expected. He merely nodded.

"I know."

"You _know_?"

He looked up from his food.

"Yep, he uh…he told me."

Vic leaned her arms on the table.

"Um…is there a reason _you_ didn't tell me this?"

Walt wiped his hands on his napkin and shrugged.

"Honestly, I forgot about it. It was just before everything happened with Chance. You got shot and then my trial started. I didn't think about it anymore."

She looked at him for a long moment before she spoke.

"What did he say?"

Walt sighed and was quiet for a stretch before he spoke.

"He came to my office and showed me the ring."

Vic tilted her head.

"Why would he show you the ring?"

Walt drummed his fingers on the table.

"He told me that if I didn't propose to you, he would."

She frowned.

"He gave you an ultimatum?"

A smile tugged at Walt's mouth.

"More or less. That's when he mentioned that you were pregnant."

"That's how you found out?"

He nodded.

"Yeah. He seemed to think someone needed to take care of you."

Vic leaned back in her chair, her food completely forgotten.

"What did you say?"

Walt folded his hands in front of him on the table.

"That it wasn't his place to tell me that. It was yours. And, that you could make your own decisions."

He could see her thinking.

"He found out by accident. He saw the tests in my trash and asked me about it."

Walt nodded slowly.

"Why didn't you tell me, Vic? When all of this was going on?"

She sighed.

"Because I screwed up and you had enough on your plate. I was with Eamonn once and Travis once. I was really drunk the night with Travis. I was…fucked up, Walt. You had the thing going with Donna and I just…wanted to…I don't even know. I'm not proud of it."

His jaw flexed under the skin.

"I'm sorry. I guess we all made mistakes. Did things we're not proud of."

She shook her head.

"It doesn't matter. It's over."

Her eyes settled on him and he could see something there. Something curious. Walt tilted his head.

"What?"

"I still can't believe he gave you an ultimatum. You marry her or I will. Jesus. I can't believe he thought I would say yes."

Walt smiled a little.

"He cared about you, Vic. I couldn't fault him for that."

"Yeah, but just because you care about someone doesn't mean you can control their life and make decisions for them."

"If it were my baby, I probably would've done the same thing."

She smiled then. She had often wished for that very reality.

"If it had been your baby, that would have been a whole different set of circumstances. I would never have said yes to him. Even if I knew the baby was his. I couldn't… marry someone that I didn't love. Not after my first marriage."

"I think he loved you."

She shook her head.

"He loved the idea of a family."

Walt grew quiet. Vic's eyes were on him.

"What are you thinking?"

"If the baby had been mine, would you have married me?"

She smiled again and shrugged.

"Maybe. I guess we'll never know."

He smiled in return. Vic's expression grew more somber.

"I have a lot of regrets about that whole shit show of a time period."

Walt nodded his head in agreement.

"Yeah, me too. My biggest is that I didn't tell you how I felt. It might have changed some things."

Vic shrugged.

"As much as I wanted you to, I'm not sure I was ready. I have to believe our timing was right. That we both had to be ready for it. I don't regret that."

Walt smiled in a way he rarely did.

"Me either."


	16. Scars

Ch. 16

Scars

Set post Series

"What happened?"

His tone is serious. It's the closest she's seen him come to Sheriff mode in quite some time. Retirement has mostly agreed with him. He reads a lot. He's done a lot of work to the cabin to make it less of a reclusive bachelor type place and more of a home for two people sharing a life. He rides his horse and goes fishing with Henry. On occasion, she joins him. They've managed to find a heathy balance. For the most part, their life together is peaceful and healthy. She goes to work every day and comes home to him in the evenings. Those are their favorite times. Quiet evenings together that sometimes turn into something else entirely when they go to bed.

That's not to say their life is perfect. No one's is. They are both hard headed and stubborn people with their own ideas. They've always had moments where they clashed. All the way back to the beginning. But, that's the natural ebb and flow of life. She knows, from experience, it's healthier to get it out. To not hold things in.

But now, he's looking at her sternly and with concern.

"It's nothing, Walt."

She says it with a sigh.

He takes her wrist gently and extends her arm. Her forearm is wrapped in gauze. The gauze is clean and fresh. But, he knows what it hides. Blood. Her blood. He hates the sight of it. He always has. It's covered his hands and his shirt. It's the stuff of his darkest nightmares. It reminds him that her job is still life or death sometimes. For all her early fears about his safety, his concern for her is just as strong. He's just better at managing it. The gift of experience.

"This isn't nothing, Vic."

She pulls her arm away from his grasp and winces slightly. She walks by him and sits on the couch, still in her uniform. The area around her sleeve has traces of dried up blood. It doesn't escape his notice. He follows her and lowers himself next to her.

"What happened?"

He repeats his original question. She looks down at her bandaged arm.

"It was a fight."

"A fight?"

"Yeah, at the Red Pony."

His brows furrows as he digests the information.

"Were you there by yourself?"

"What difference does that make? You and I have both gone on those kinds of calls alone dozens of times, Walt. Don't blame Cady or anyone else."

He looks at her arm again.

"Tell me."

His tone has softened but leaves little room for her to argue.

"I went to break up a fight. By the time I got there, it was mostly over. But…you know how that goes. One of the jackasses got started up again and decided to go after the other one. I was between them and he pulled a knife."

"So he wasn't trying to cut you?"

"As drunk as he was, I'm not sure he even knew."

He frowns.

"There were less fights when Henry was there every night."

She nods her head in agreement.

"That's true. There were also less fights before that casino opened and attracted some of these lowlifes. But, what's done is done."

"Doc Weston stitch you up?"

"Yes, I got stiches, antibiotics, and a lecture. I'm good."

He still looks apprehensive.

"Walt, it's really not that bad. It barely even hurts right now."

"It could've been worse."

"It could always be worse. Don't go there."

That's hard for him. He's carried her while her body steadily pumped the blood from her veins. He's held his own hand over a wound trying to keep her alive. Most of the time, he's fine with it. But, every once in a while, it creeps up on him and catches him off guard. He told her the truth back when he told her that he survived his greatest loss and she could, too. What he never gave voice to was his doubts that he could do it a second time. Losing her would, no doubt, finish the job losing Martha had started.

These are the things they don't say.

"He in jail?"

"Yeah, he's in jail. Zach was right behind me."

His eyes darken. This is what he dislikes the most about his retirement. He can't be with her. Can't watch her back. But, who's he kidding? She got shot on his watch. It's not like he was always the best at keeping her safe.

"You should've called me."

She scowls.

"You would've rushed to the hospital and you know it. It's just a cut."

She's never liked to be hovered over. They're alike that way.

He takes her hand and tugs her arm lightly in his direction. He swipes his thumb over the gauze. Her stance softens farther when she places one of her hands over his.

"I'm fine, Walt. The doctor did say it may leave a small scar."

She already has one of those. It's small now and innocuous looking. Someone who didn't know the story would never know it nearly took her away from him. Before he ever really had her. He views if differently than his own scars. He both loves it and dreads it. On one hand, it serves as a reminder that she's a survivor. That she made it through and healed. Her healing is much like her scar. It's flawed and beautiful all at the same time. On the other hand, it serves as a reminder of how close she came. How close they both came.

Her voice breaks through his thoughts.

"If it makes you feel any better, I took tomorrow off."

He nods. That does make him feel better. She knew it would.

"Good."

She smiles at him then and lifts her hand to his face. The softness of her palm is in stark contrast to the roughness of his two day old stubble.

"We can sleep late."

He has no choice but to return her smile. As much as he enjoys taking care of her, and he does, he also doesn't mind her reciprocation of that care. It's not traditional. They're not traditional. But, it's her. It's so very much her. To him, that makes it exactly what he needs.

"Sounds good."

They both know how that will play out. He'll make her breakfast. That's his thing. He'll want to look at her arm and change her bandage. He'll do it with a gentleness that belies his rough exterior. He's always gentle with her when she's hurt or sick. And she will let him. Despite everything. She'll push aside her independent streak and her instinct to take care of herself. Because she knows that's what he needs. To take care of her in moments like that. That's how she takes care of him. Meets his needs. And, he knows his gentle concern is what she needs. Not demands that she be more careful or quit such a dangerous profession. But him offering quiet support and love that doesn't have conditions. She hates for him to make a fuss. But, he knows she likes it when he goes about it quietly. Just the two of them. Then, she doesn't mind so much. They'll spend most of the day in bed. They both already know that. Their smiles tell that truth. They don't always get a lot of time together. But, when they do, that's how they prefer it. She's the only person he's met whose intensity can match his own.

Her hand falls away from his face and she stands up. His eyes follow her.

"I'm gonna get a shower."

He nods.

"Okay. Tired?"

"Kind of."

She feels better now. So does he. It won't be the last time this scenario plays out.

They both know that.

But, this time, they're okay.


	17. Impressions

Ch. 17

Impressions

Set Pre-Series

On the list of things he wanted to do today, conducting a job interview was at the bottom of the list. Or not even on it. It was Ruby who prodded him into the office. He had completely forgotten that she scheduled an interview today to fill their vacant deputy position. After a handful of interviews, he came to the conclusion that no one in Durant was qualified.

But apparently, the candidate today wasn't from Durant. Or even Wyoming.

He sat at his desk looking though the job application and references. The first thing that jumped out at him was that she was, indeed, a she. Thus far in his career as Sheriff, Walt hadn't had a female deputy. Unlike a good number of his counterparts, he didn't care about that aspect. He was more interested in the type of person he hired.

Usually.

Right now, his head hurt. He drank too much last night.

Again.

Ruby had chastised him well for it once he finally showed up today. She wasn't impressed with his outward appearance. Six months out from the death of his wife, he didn't care what anyone thought of him. He was hard pressed to even care about his job. He was here now because if he hired someone, he wouldn't have to be here as much as he currently did.

Ruby tapped on his door.

"Walter, your appointment is here."

Her eyes raked over him and he could read the disapproval on his face. He nodded.

"Send her in."

He remained seat, or slouched, behind his desk.

Less than a minute later, Victoria Moretti appeared in his doorway. Walt forced himself to stand up. With year of experience, he took her in quickly and began to form opinions from the outset. She was average height. Looked to be in good shape. The word attractive crossed his mind and he dismissed it. Her blond hair was pulled back in a braid. She offered him a smile that didn't seem overly friendly. There was something about her he couldn't quite put his finger own. It was in the way she carried herself. She was dressed appropriately in black slacks and a simple sweater.

She extended her hand and he took it. Her grip was strong but not over bearing.

"Miss Moretti. I'm Sheriff Longmire."

"Vic, please."

He nodded.

"Vic."

It seemed to fit her. He motioned to the chair in front of his desk.

"Sit, please."

She sat and crossed her legs, placing her hands in her lap. He picked up the resume and application she had filled out and perused it.

"You're from Philadelphia. What brings you to Wyoming?"

"My husband got a job transfer. He works for the gas company."

"Newett?"

She nodded.

"Yes."

He started to say something but then derailed himself. He leaned back in his chair.

"You do realize that you're overqualified for this job."

"Yeah, but you're also the only department around here that's hiring, so here we are."

He smiled a little. She was sharp. He liked that.

"Let me cut to the chase. This job won't be like anything you've done back east. We're a small department. That basically means that we're never really off duty. The pay isn't great and the hours are long."

She tilted her head and smiled at him in a manner that made him think she was more than a little amused. Her eyes held his attention. They were like nothing he had seen before. He would call the color hazel. But, in the light that filtered in through is blinds, they looked almost golden. There was a fierceness in them. He was reminded of a wild animal, maybe a big cat stalking prey on the savanna.

"Is that your sales pitch? Because it kind of sucks."

He was taken aback by the bluntness of her statement. But he liked it.

"I need someone who can do their job without me holding their hand. You clearly have the experience. More than anyone on my staff. But…I also need someone who isn't going to jump ship in a couple of months if something better comes along."

There was that smile again. He found his size alone intimidated a lot of people. His gruff manner as well. But she wasn't the least bit phased. He had no doubt she could take whatever anyone threw at her. She seemed to know that as well.

"Okaaay."

She drew out the syllable.

"Still want the job?"

She looked around his office and then back at him.

"Since I'm stuck here in this God forsaken place, I might as well have something to do."

She pulled a smile out of him with her honesty. Walt leaned forward.

"When you can you start?"

xxx

The lady at the desk was nice enough. She seemed like the grandmotherly type. She led Vic to the door of an office and ushered her in. Vic's eyes scanned the room and took in the man in front of her. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting.

But, he wasn't it.

He stood up as she came in. Her first thought was that he was tall. She hadn't expected that. Or for him to be…what he was. She had thought he would be older. Gray haired with a mustache maybe.

But this man, Walt Longmire, wasn't that at all. He looked like he was in his late forties. Early fifties as most. He wore a faded blue denim shirt and blue jeans. His hair was a little unruly and needed a trim. Also, he could use a shave. He was sort of attractive in an odd scruffy, cowboy kind of way. Not so much her type but not bad to look at.

It had to be the strangest job interview ever. He explained the job in the worst possible way almost like he was trying to talk her out of it. There was something about him that struck her. She couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Sadness.

Maybe.

Whatever it was, it didn't particularly matter. She couldn't spend another damn day sitting around the house while Sean was out of town. It was bad enough she was in this hell hole. She needed something that was her own. She needed some semblance of a normal life.

After everything that happened in Philly.

She needed something.

The interview seemed to go well enough despite his best intentions. She did manage to get a smile out of him.

That was something.


	18. Brevity

Set during "Opiates and Antibiotics"

Ch. 18: Brevity

Walt sat on his porch with his legs stretched out in front of him. A wave of relief had washed over him when his cabin came into view and the RV was still sitting there. He was afraid she would be gone before he got home.

It sounded stupid.

When she told him earlier that she was considering moving her RV back to the trailer park, he tried to play it cool. Cool was not something he was particularly good at. Neither was self-expression.

That was more than obvious by the look on Vic's face when he turned around to leave the room. He didn't know what else to do in the moment. He couldn't very well do what he wanted to do, which was tell her outright he didn't want her to leave. That would open a can of worms he wasn't sure he was ready for.

She would want to know why.

It actually caught him off guard how panicked he felt when she brought it up so nonchalantly. The panic surged into his stomach as though a cliff appeared out of foggy darkness and loomed in front of him. He never was the best at thinking quickly on personal matters and reacting the way he wanted. He tended to stammer and stutter.

Or to completely pretend like it didn't' matter.

That never did work out well for him.

The subject was left untouched after his abrupt exit. It only came up again when she popped her head into his office later to tell him she was leaving a little early to prep the RV. He merely nodded wordlessly.

Sometimes, he was an idiot.

He was willing to concede that.

She gave him that odd look again and then left, pulling his office door closed behind her. He was well aware that he was guilty of giving her mixed signals lately. Her confusion only made him angrier at himself. Vic had enough problems without him adding his own emotional defects to the pile.

The truth was, his truth, was that having her parked in his yard provided him the personal access he craved without forcing him to take the final, obvious step. It made more sense in his mind than when tried to give it an actual voice.

Technically she wasn't living with him.

Technically.

Her RV was her home and she slept there most nights now. In the beginning, she had fallen asleep on his couch numerous times and he left her there to sleep, safe and sound. It made him feel better to have her under his watchful eye. It was easier to see where she was or where her mind was. Her frame of mind was a major concern for him. But, Walt seemed to have evolved into the person she trusted all of this with. Her grief. Her fears. Her feelings. Whether it was some sense that he could understand her grief or simply because the deep bond they once shared had reinvented itself into something different and possibly stronger than before, Walt couldn't say.

But he readily stepped into the role.

A comfortable routine developed between them. She ate dinner with him most evenings. She came early in the morning looking for coffee and swearing his was much better than what she could brew in her RV. He would only smile and pour her a cup.

But, his favorites were the late nights. The ones where they became lost in conversation, sipping beers and sitting on his couch. Minutes would turn into hours before they realized it. Those times were the ones he felt the closest to her. She would sit on his couch, with her bare feet pulled up or tucked under her looking casually like everything he wanted.

And he did want her.

Sometimes, the urge came to him so strongly and swiftly, he would excuse himself to the bathroom to pull himself together. Occasionally, the domesticity overwhelmed him. That was the hardest part. Not the sexual urges. Hell, he'd been fighting those for years. It was the glimpse of what normal, everyday life would be like with her. And he wanted it.

Badly.

Vic was perceptive. It was one of the things that made her good at her job. Every so often, he would catch her looking at him in a way that made his mouth go dry. Like maybe she knew what he was thinking. In those moments, he was almost certain that if he leaned over and kissed her, she would be receptive.

The thought both excited him and scared the hell out of him.

But, Vic was also vulnerable. He didn't want to take advantage of that. He couldn't stand the thought of her thinking his feelings weren't genuine. Or that he was merely trying to comfort her.

So, he remained frozen.

As usual.

But, if she left, it would shake up everything. He would be back to dining alone, unless they grabbed something at the office. His mornings would be quiet and lack her sleepy, tousled expression he was so fond of. There would be no excuse to sit and talk with her in the quiet, alone away from work. If he showed up at her RV for that, she would want to know why. She would assume something was wrong.

So he sat and he waited. He could just see her moving around inside. It wouldn't take her long to secure what she needed and get on the road. He looked down at the worn, wooden boards of the porch and scuffled his boot across the smooth surface.

He didn't look up when he heard the door to the RV open and close with a familiar slam. Or when he could hear her shoes crunching across his yard. He noticed she paused when she reached the first step. Then he heard the tread of her shoes as they padded up the stairs. Another pause.

"Walt."

He did look up when she said his name. He hadn't realized how fixated he'd been on his own boot. She was standing just off the last step and wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He tried not to notice how the jeans hugged her thighs and hips and she crossed the last bit of real estate that separated them. Her brows were knit together and her eyes were focused on him.

"What you looking at?"

He glanced back down.

"Nothing."

He paused and inhaled deeply as she sat down on the bench next to him. She smelled of sweat and coconut.

"All done?"

She glanced at the RV and then back to him.

"Yeah."

In his periphery, he could see her hands dangling in between her slightly parted knees. She seemed to be on the verge of saying something, her bottom lips pulled in between her teeth. Lately, he was pretty sure he could write a book on her body language. Reading her came easier to him now than it had in a long time.

He leaned back, relaxing his own posture and waited. She turned her head toward him and her eyes met his for the first time since she sat down next to him.

"Walt…I just…I wanted to thank you."

He could hear the struggle in her tone. Maybe to find the right words.

"Thank me?"

"Yeah, for everything."

He started to speak.

"Vic…"

She cut him off.

"Walt, please. Don't say that I don't have to or that I don't owe you anything. That's…that's not true. I wasn't too happy when I realized that you moved the RV without asking."

He smiled a little remembering that day like a breeze blowing lightly across his face.

You moved my house.

"But uh…I'm kind of glad you did."

"Kind of?"

He saw her shrug and her arm brushed his.

"Shit this is hard."

He was pretty sure she said it to herself. Not him.

"I mean…"

She shook her head. It wasn't like her to have problems expressing herself. Her jaw flexed and she leaned back, turning to the side so that she could look directly at him.

"I wouldn't have been able to get through this without you. So…thank you."

His throat felt tight and it burned.

He could argue that she would have. That she was strong and didn't need him. But, he knew that wasn't what she wanted to hear. Or needed to hear. He didn't think any of it was anything extraordinary. She had, after all, saved his life the night she was shot. If anything, he felt he owed it to her. But Vic would argue that point all day.

He could hear her struggle to get through what she was saying.

"Anytime."

He swallowed. She offered him a smile, then. That was what she needed. Merely for him to accept her thanks and not argue about things that didn't matter in the big scheme of things.

Acceptance.

She inhaled deeply and let the breath out sounding relieved. She ran her hands across her jeans.

"I should go."

Walt nodded. She stood and he followed. It seemed odd that he felt as though she were leaving and he needed to see her off. She was simply going home. She wasn't really leaving. But it felt like she was.

And he hated it.

He trailed behind her towards the RV.

"Need me to follow you."

She cast a look at the large vehicle and shook her head. He sensed the slightest bit of hesitation.

"No, I'll be fine."

"Okay."

He nodded. Vic smiled at him and lifted her hand in a half wave.

"See you tomorrow."

At work. They were back to that. Seeing her at work.

"Yep, see you tomorrow."

He watched as she climbed in and the wheels of the old RV started to turn. He stood there until she was out of sight, leaving only a cloud of dust.

He sighed and glanced back at his cabin. Things would be back to normal now.

The old normal.

He liked the new normal.

But, that was over.

For now.


	19. Rough

Set Post Series

Ch. 20: Rough

Inspired by a friend making a comment that camping is about fires, alcohol, and sex in tents

"Your dad didn't take you camping as a child?"

Vic nearly snorted through her nose when she laughed. She set the beer she was drinking on the ground and stretched her legs out.

"Um…no."

Walt took a sip from his own can.

"So, what did he do with you and your brothers?"

She smiled.

"Target practice."

Walt laughed lightly.

"Really?"

"Yep. That was his idea of quality time."

Walt shrugged.

"At least he spent time with you."

She conceded with a nod.

"True…but not very often. He was…a workaholic. The job was his life."

Walt shifted beside her and put his hand on her leg just above her knee.

"I think every father struggles with that. Most of the time I spent with my dad was following him around while he worked. And fishing. He enjoyed fishing when he had a day off."

Vic smiled.

"What kind of things did you do with Cady?"

He inhaled and let the breath out slowly.

"We camped some, fished some, she enjoyed riding horses when she was a girl. I didn't spend as much time with her as I would've liked."

Vic picked her beer back up and turned the can around in her hand. Walt's arm brushed against her as he tried to find a more comfortable position on the ground. A fire crackled away in front of them, the orange glow illuminating everything in the immediate area. The warmth emanating from it was in stark difference to the chill of the autumn air. Seasons were tricky in Wyoming and could turn quickly. One day, you were enjoying a brisk, windy day with leaves swirling in patterns or orange, yellow, and brown from the trees. The next, the hardware store had a run on people prepping for snow.

This weekend, the days were pleasantly cool and the nights were bordering on cold. It was perfect camping weather in Walt's mind. He had cajoled Vic into finally agreeing to go with him.

"That seems to be every parent's sentiment."

Walt nodded his head in agreement.

"I was trying to learn the ropes as a deputy. And Lucian was not easy on me."

She smiled again.

"I bet he was a hard ass."

Walt nodded.

"Yep. He uh…he was. But…he was also a good teacher."

"See, I pictured him being kind of an outlaw sheriff."

Walt smiled thinking of his old friend. The memories didn't hurt as much now.

"Oh…he was. Believe me. You and Lucian would've butted heads like a couple of mountain goats if you worked for him."

She shook her head at the image.

"I'd have quit. Trust me. He would make one too many comments about my ass or something and I would be forced to punch him. So scratch that. Not quit..fired."

Walt had to agree with that assessment.

"Yeah, he was from a different time."

Vic turned her head and looked at his profile.

"You know…you're from a different time, too, but you're not a jackass. If you ever had any thoughts like that…you were smart enough to keep them to yourself."

He ducked his head and Vic leaned in.

"You did, didn't you?"

She elbowed him in the side.

"Walt Longmire…were you looking at my ass?"

Walt held up one hand.

"No comment."

"Hah. You were like the other extreme from Lucian. Too closed off with what went on inside that head of yours."

His expression grew serious.

"Yeah."

"The strong, silent type."

"I don't know about that."

Vic finished off the last of her beer and set the can down on the yellowing grass. Walt glanced at her in his peripheral.

"So…do you hate camping as much as you swore you would?"

A soft look crossed her face.

"No…I don't hate it. I still think it's ass backwards to voluntarily use the bathroom behind a bush. But…this isn't so bad. It's actually kind of amazing out here."

She was right. In his mind there was nothing more stunning than the clear Wyoming sky that spread out like the most beautiful work of art as far as the eye could see. The innumerable stars sparkling overhead was like nothing he'd ever seen anywhere else. It was the universe the way it was meant to be viewed.

Perfectly.

Unadulterated.

In the darkness, his hand found her and he laced their fingers, binding them.

"Know what else is great about the great outdoors?"

Vic turned to face him.

"What?"

He stood up slowly and tugged gently on her hand pulling her along with him. The momentum sent her into his chest. He released her hand and wound his arms around her, tucking her snugly into his body.

"Privacy."

Leaning down, he pressed a kiss along her jaw. A slow smile crept across her face. She ran her hands up his chest and fingered the top snap of his shirt.

"I like privacy."

He nodded as he dipped his head again and kiss the other side of her jaw. She squirmed slightly against him and her fingers pulled the snap loose with a low pop.

"Me too."

He murmured the words against her mouth as he pressed his lips to hers in a slow kiss that she returned in kind.

Her fingers pulled another snap free.

xxx

"Are you cold?"

Vic huffed under her breath and rolled in his arms so that she was facing him.

"Mmmm…no. You are so warm."

He smiled and press his lips against her forehead. Her voice carried a drowsy and content note to it.

"Good."

She burrowed down into the cocoon of warmth that their combined body heat was creating underneath the blankets tangled around them. The tent flap was zipped up but the sounds of nature wafted in from outside.

Vic inhaled deeply breathing in the scent that was all Walt, along with the smoky smell from his extinguishing the fire when they headed for the tent. Walt's hand was combing softly through her hair. He could feel the warm spurts of her breath against the skin of his chest and neck.

"You know…I gotta say…after all that…camping moved up on my list."

His body vibrated with a quiet laughter. He was quiet but the air felt thick with his thinking. Vic shifted back a little so that they could make eye contact.

"What?"

"I was thinking about something Lucian told me once."

Vic raised her eyebrows.

"Well, this I gotta hear."

He couldn't keep the smile from his face.

"He said you can't have a good camping trip unless there is fire, alcohol, and a lot of sex in your tent."

Vic laughed out loud and then lowered her head back into the nest of blankets.

"I have to say…for once…that crazy old man was right."

End.


	20. Targets

Ch. 19

Targets

Set post series.

Vic folded her arms across her chest and watched Cady take aim with the handgun. Vic could tell by her grip, she was still adjusting. Still trying to find the right fit. She waited patiently as Cady fired off the rounds in the weapon and then laid it down carefull. She removed her ear muffs and set them down next to the gun. Vic came up behind her and looked over her shoulder at the target.

"Better."

Cady smiled ruefully.

"Still not great at this distance."

Vic gave her a nonchalant shrug.

"It takes time. It'll come. I'm kind of surprised you haven't had more experience with Walt being your dad."

Cady swiped at a srtand of hair that blew across her face in the breeze whipping dust up around them.

"To be honest, I was always a little apprehensive around guns. He took me target shooting a few times but I usually found other things to do. Guess I should've made more time for it."

"No time like the present."

Vic studied the paper target Cady had retrieved.

"This is actually pretty good considering. You're coming along."

Cady took the paper from her.

"Not quite good enough."

Vic laughed a little as she lifted Cady's gun and began to show her how to check and secure it safely.

"Walt's not a perfectionist. Was your mom?"

Cady quietly watched Vic's motions with keen interest before she answered.

"Yeah, she was. She liked everything to be just so."

Her voice took on a wistful note. Vic glanced up at her as she set the gun into it's case.

"My mom is kind of like that, too. Drove her crazy having five kids screw up everything."

She snapped the case shut and held it out to Cady.

"If you're not comfortable with this one, we can find you something else. You should be confident in what you're using day to day."

Cady nodded and trailed Vic slowly to her truck. Off duty, both wore jeans and long sleeved t-shirts. The weather was comfortable but the breeze made it a little chillier than normal. Vic fished her keys from the pocket of her leather jacket and slid behind the steering wheel. Pulling her sunglasses from her shirt, she put them on. Starting the engine, she steered the truck out of the gravel lot and onto the highway.

Cady glanced at her across the cab of the truck.

"So…how are things?"

Vic gave her an odd look.

"Things in general?"

Her voice held a mix of curiosity and confusion. Cady shifted her blue eyes toward the window and then back to Vic.

"You know that I know, right?"

The edge of Vic's mouth turned up a little. She understood what Cady was getting at.

"About me and your dad."

It wasn't a question but a confirmation. Cady nodded anyway.

"Yeah."

Vic kept her eyes focused on the road.

"Yeah, he told me."

A beat of silence passed between them before Cady spoke again.

"So things are good?"

Vic turned her head and looked at Cady before returning her attention to the road.

"Do you really want to talk about this with me?"

Cady smiled.

"Well…we haven't had a chance to talk lately. Not with everything going on. So, yes, I really want to know."

Vic nodded a little.

"Yeah, things are fine."

Cady huffed in silent laughter.

"Wow. That sounds exactly like something dad would say. He must be rubbing off on you."

Vic smiled then. Cady turned slightly in her seat, tugging at her seatbelt.

"Can I be honest with you, Vic?"

"Sure."

She didn't sound so sure.

"I'm happy that he's found someone who can deal with him."

Vic laughed then and shook her head.

"Well, there are people who would probably say the same thing about me so…"

Cady waved her off.

"I know that's true of everyone. But…you know what he's like. How frustrating he can be. I've always known it would take someone with a stubborn streak as wide as his to be able to handle him and not go crazy. Has he driven you crazy yet?"

"He's been driving me crazy since he hired me. That hasn't changed."

Cady smiled.

"I have to admit…when he first told me…I was skeptical. But…seeing him now…it seems like he's in a good place. That's all I really want for him."

Vic tightened her grip slightly on the wheel.

"I was skeptical, too. Since we're being honest. But…now that everything is settling down…it is good."

Cady turned her attention back to the landscape rolling by. She was more than a little dubious when her father asked if Vic could stay with her for a while. She and Vic had never been particularly friends. On the surface, they seemed to have very little in common. But underneath, they were more alike than either of them realized. Both the daughters of law enforcement officers. Raised by fathers with a tendency to be overbearing. Women trying to navigate the ever choppy waters of a male dominated profession. Both could be stubborn and set in their ways. Although the trait was more subtle in Cady than in Vic, it existed in both women.

Cady also witnessed, firsthand, the obvious affection between her father and Vic. No, it didn't seem like the most obvious of matches. But, it had been a long time since she had seen her father so at ease and seemingly at peace.

Vic was apprehensive when Cady agreed to run for Sheriff. With no real experience, Cady would need to learn everything from the ground up. She clearly understood the law better than most. But their worlds were still very different. Walt laughed at her expression when he first presented the idea to her.

"Cady? Sheriff?"

True to his nature, he broached the topic in his own time. His words broke through the post coital haze she was enjoying in bed half asleep. Walt lay on his side watching her with his head propped up on one hand. It was hard to concentrate when he looked at her like that, with his tousled hair and soft smile. It wasn't a side many people saw of Walt Longmire.

Vic rolled to her own side to face him, studying him carefully.

"You're serious?"

He gave a slight shrug.

"You made it clear you weren't interested."

His voice was merely a soft rumble in his chest.

"It just seems…like an odd choice. And you've talked to her?"

"Yep. She had the same reaction as you. But, I think she sees my point and she's trying to find her place. Maybe this is it."

Vic pushed herself up and leaned against the headboard.

"She doesn't have any experience."

"I know. But…I was hoping you would be willing to teach her."

"I'm not a teacher, Walt."

His eyes never left hers.

"You sell yourself short. There isn't anyone I would trust her with more than you, Vic."

Vic sighed and extended her hand, running it through his bed mussed hair.

"You've given this a lot of thought."

"Yep."

Her hand slid from his hair to the rough texture of his jawline.

"Okay."

He smiled one of the smiles that crinkled the skin around his eyes.

The smoothness of the road gave way to the crunch of gravel as Vic steered the truck into the parking lot of the Red Pony where Cady's Jeep was parked. She cut the engine and looked across the cab of the truck. The Bronco sat near the building telling them that Walt was already inside.

"Sure you don't want to come in and have dinner?"

Cady offered Vic a sincere smile.

"I'm sure. I've got plans."

Vic raised her brows in amusement.

"Really?"

Cady couldn't hide the grin that crossed her face. She and Zach were keeping their relationship quiet for the time being. But, she had seen Vic watching them at the station and suspected it might not be as secret as they hoped.

"Yes, really."

Vic smiled at her.

"Have fun."

Cady gathered up her things as opened the passenger door. Just as her feet hit the surface of the parking lot, Vic chimed in again.

"Tell Zach hello."

Cady's head swiveled and saw the knowing expression on Vic's face. She could only nod, knowing denials would be useless at this point.

"Sure."

Walt was sitting at a table when she pushed through the swinging doors. It was still a little early in the evening, so the crowd was fairly light. It would pick up later when more people came for a post work drink. He smiled at her approach.

"Hey."

Vic slid her jacket off and draped it over the chair before sitting down.

"Hey, been here long?"

He shook his head.

"Bout five minutes."

There were two beers sitting in front of him. He slid one to her and took a sip of his own.

"How'd it go?"

Vic took a swallow of her beer and then set it back down.

"Good. She's getting better every time."

Walt rested his arms on the table.

"She didn't want to come in?"

Vic shook her head.

"No, she had some things to do, I think."

It was obvious Cady didn't want her dad clued in on whatever was going on with Zach just yet. He nodded slowly.

"Hungry?"

"Starving."

He waved the waitress over and they placed their order. When they were alone again, he leaned in a little closer, hovering over the table.

"Thank you for this, Vic. With Cady…all of it."

A smile tugged at her lips.

"It's okay. I don't mind you owing me."

It was his turn to smile.

"What exactly is it that you want?"

She shrugged and her smile widened.

"I'm sure I'll think of something. Let's eat."


	21. Breathe

**Breathe**

Takes place fairly soon after "Goodbye is Always Implied"

The room was quiet. If there had been a clock hanging on the wall, they would've been able to hear the seconds ticking away. It was night or morning. Neither of them could have said which. Neither of them really care. Had Walt turned his head, he could've seen the glowing numbers of his bedside clock. But that would've required him to move his face away from her hair. Had Vic lifted herself, she could've check her phone. But that would've required her to lift her face away from the warm skin of his chest. The sounds of his heart beating beneath her ear was lulling her into a state of relaxations she hadn't experienced in some time.

She was pressed into his side. One of his long arms cradled her. The other was slowly stroking up and down her back. The smooth skin under his hand was warm and softer than he ever imagined in stark contrast to the roughness of his own hands. Hands that were accustomed to chopping wood and working outdoors. They were a testament to a life spent working outdoors and handling rough tasks. Vic head was on his chest, one ear to his skin. Her free hand was resting on his abdomen. Every so often, her fingers would mindlessly rub against his skin.

He felt her inhale deeply and wondered how she was still even awake. How either of them was still awake. It wasn't their first night together, but everything was still new. It was fascinating how the new turn of their relationship could feel so new, yet also so familiar. So deep. There were so many things to say, but they were content to lay in the quiet of the cabin and simply be. Neither of them were really sure how long they had been simply lying there, letting the night roll into the earliest hours of morning.

Finally, Vic moved. He felt her shift her head and heard her sniffle a little. She took another deep breath and seemed on the verge of saying something.

"Walt, can I ask you something?"

In the stillness of the room, her voice seemed amplified even though the words were soft. Almost a hum.

"What?"

His voice felt like a rumble after so much silence. She moved again, this time lifting her head. She slid back and rested her arm on the pillow, propping her head on her hand. She studied him in the dim bedroom. Moonlight filtered in from the full moon that made work so crazy the past couple of days. In that eerie, odd light, her eyes looked darker than normal. Before she spoke again, she studied his face. She was prone to these moments more often now. Walt attributed it to her recent trauma and loss, but the new shift in their personal lives could have also contributed to her sometimes pensive mood.

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. The move flooded him with the urge to kiss her. That was a thought that was on his mind frequently these days. It seemed absurd for a man of fifty or so years to be so taken with a woman, but here they were. And he wasn't sorry. So much wasted time had blown by them. So many missed opportunities. The last six months had brought their lives into sharp focus. Now, that the gates had been opened, he was determined to enjoy every second. To savor every day he had with her. She seemed tentative, but equally focused on the here and the now. They had both experienced love and loss. It took different forms, but the results weren't so different. In the ashes and ruins of everything lost, something had been gained. Like an impossibly green blade of grass sprouting after a ravaging fire, life was still going on and creating something beautiful. Just because it wasn't what either would've planned from the beginning, didn't make it any less so.

"Why now?"

To an outsider, it would seem like a vague question. But, Walt knew what she was asking him. The past couple of days had been filled with moments like this. Serious, planned talks and spontaneous moments that were simply created out of wonder.

There was no simple answer to her question. She would know that as well as he did. Their past wasn't simple. It was layered, painful, beautiful, and flawed. Just like they themselves were. Mistakes had been made on both sides. Regrets were plentiful. But, that mattered less and less and the seconds ticked into minutes into hours into days. From the first day she walked into his office with her resume and an attitude, there had been attraction in some form. In the beginning, it was simple. Grieving though he was, she was a beautiful woman with a vibrancy he didn't see much. He would've had to have been blind not to notice her physically. On the flip side, there was something alluring in Walt's tortured, cowboy persona. Vic would never have thought him her type, but he was a hard man to dismiss.

They quickly realized that though they seemed opposites in every possible way, save their career choice, that they were highly complementary to each other. Where he was quiet and thoughtful, she said exactly what she thought. Her impatience was offset by his slower pace. Her brazen, unfiltered sense of humor made him crack more smiles that he cared to admit. His deep intellect gave her pause and wonder. The facets of their personalities meshed in an unexpected, yet highly effective manner. The flirtations were innocent at first. She was married and he was mourning the loss of a great love. A comment here, a look there.

But, then something unexpected happened that caught them both off guard. The isolation Walt had forced on himself suddenly seemed suffocating. His preference for working alone and losing himself in his own thoughts was losing ground to his desire to spend time with her. He found that he genuinely like her and enjoyed her company in a way he realized he'd missed. For Vic's part, the widening divide in her marriage pushed her closer to Walt. Her marriage had been rocky for some time. The move had only worsened the stress fractures that already existed. Sean was becoming more of a stranger and Walt was becoming more of a friend. Someone she could confide in without judgement. The two of them, despite all evidence to the contrary, had become friends.

As the bond between them deepened, they both found themselves guilty of thoughts they never asked for. Walt would watch her when her back was turned, realizing just how beautiful she really was to him. He found himself irrationally angry at her husband for the way Walt perceived his treatment of Vic. Vic realized she enjoyed Walt's companionship more than she did Sean's. It was not an easy thing to digest, but it was simply the truth. She felt free to be herself with Walt. He accepted her for who she was in a way no one ever had. It was an exhilaratingly free feeling. The conversations and moments between them were no longer innocent or merely friendly. Things ran deeper now. And neither of them saw it coming until it had already happened. They had unwittingly fallen in love with each other.

The road that led them to an unexpected kiss in his Bronco on the verge of a potential shootout had been fraught with all manner of setbacks and hurt. Disappointment and bitterness littered that same road. But, through it all, they came out the far side still intact. Different but the same. Things crumbled and were reconstructed. New, deeper feelings emerged from ruins that seemed inescapable.

And here they were.

He shifted his head to the side so that he could see her face better. They simply looked at each other as time stretched out like the branches of a tree. She could see him thinking, mulling over the question. Despite his penchant for single syllable answers, when he was alone with her, there was a noticeable uptick in his speech. Talking to her was different. There was so much he wanted to say, but finding the words wasn't always easy.

"It seemed like the thing to do."

She smiled at him and rolled her eyes in a patented Vic move that he expected. He smiled in return and accepted the push of her hand into his ribs at his typical Walt answer. Then he grew serious again, as did she. The hand that wasn't supporting her head still rested on his side.

"It was…a lot of things. You've been on my mind lately. All the time. After everything that happened with you getting shot and then your dad trying to talk you into going back to Philadelphia…I realized I was in danger of losing you. In more ways than one. I…wanted to say something…but I didn't know what to say. Asking you not to go home seemed selfish if that's what you wanted. It's not like I've given you much reason to stay. But…you did. And…sitting in the Bronco the other day…I realized my mistake in making assumptions. I wanted to you know…if something happened to me…how much you mean to me."

She smiled again. But, it was different than her previous, playful one. This one was soft and tender in a way he had only just begun to see from her. This new side of her that he was discovering was like the most beautifully kept secret. Underneath the attitude she wore so blatantly, she was soft and sweet in a way he realized few people would ever see. She liked to be held and allowed to be vulnerable. He was more than happy to grant her that.

"I'm sorry that I've been so...dark lately. I just…the thought of losing you …after everything…has been overwhelming."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Don't apologize for that, Vic. Never apologize for caring."

She let her arm relax and allowed her face to descend to his, her lips pressing firmly into hers. Nuzzling her face into his neck, she breathed in and then exhaled slowly. This was something she had never really allowed herself to do. Not until she came to Wyoming and stood at the precipice of a darkness that seemed insurmountable. Walt had walked with her through that darkness. Not able to bear it for her, but willing to bear it with her. Now, on the far side, there was light. It seemed like a cliché. But it was simply the truth.

He could feel her smile against his skin. There was still a long road out ahead of them. And nothing came easy. It never had and wouldn't now. But, now they weren't trying to navigate it alone. They were picking their way along together into a future that seemed more promising that it had in quite some time.

But, for now, all they needed was the quiet.


End file.
